


I forget what is missing, I kiss fear on the cheek

by Shadowcrawler, unwindmyself



Category: True Blood, Warehouse 13
Genre: Canon Bisexual Character, Continuity What Continuity, Crossover Pairings, Cunnilingus, Deliberate Secrecy, Exposition, F/F, Feeding, Femslash, First Time With Another Woman, For Science!, Loud Sex, Misandry, Naked Cuddling, One Night Stands, Slow Burn, Victorian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-16
Updated: 2014-02-16
Packaged: 2018-01-12 16:19:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1191744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowcrawler/pseuds/Shadowcrawler, https://archiveofourown.org/users/unwindmyself/pseuds/unwindmyself
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the winter of 1894, Helena encounters a striking woman at a party.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I forget what is missing, I kiss fear on the cheek

**Author's Note:**

> Because Warehouse's continuity is so ridiculous, assume Christina died in 1899 for the purpose of this story.
> 
> As for the "why does this exist," we came to a mutual agreement that it was about time something nice happened to both of these ladies, and it made sense, so 9k later, here we are. With quite a bit of accidental misandry along the way, because it kept coming up and was in-character. 
> 
> (Sorry-not-sorry about any Bering and Wells foreshadowing that snuck in.)

Helena has always been hyperaware of her surroundings; Chaturanga once said that it was one of the main reasons that the Regents selected her. Oftentimes she seems to be much more aware of others than they are of her, and as such Helena’s not quite sure whether the lovely woman in purple standing across the room is actually staring at her, or if she’s merely lost in thought.

It isn’t as if this stranger is wanting for attention: whenever Helena happens to look in her direction, she’s surrounded by all manner of people, talking to (but not particularly talking with) her and attempting to engage her while she herself seems to be playing the coquette. Men old and young seem to shower her with flattery (Helena assumes given what she knows about their usual agendas) and more than one woman has tagged along, seeking to curry favor with her and perhaps gain some of her allure by association. One man in particular hasn’t taken his eyes off her all this time, though he hasn’t necessarily been amongst the throng.

But for her part, she just smiles coyly behind her fan, then glances back to Helena. At first it seemed accidental, but the longer it’s gone on the more Helena suspects that she’s being deliberate, and that awakens something not altogether uncommon in her.

It’s not unlike the effect certain artifacts have been known to have on others: mind-altering and the like. Chaturanga has given her leave for several days, but she knows better than to ignore behavior like this. Better to ensure all’s well than to face unwanted consequences later. Additionally, it would be something to occupy herself with, as her attempts to discuss anything of substance have been rebuffed.

She saunters over casually, in the interest of detecting possible artifact activity (this would be her first time dealing with an artifact without the help of Chaturanga, Wolcott, or any other agent, but she has to learn at some point) but hesitates before getting too close. Wooley would caution her against getting involved with such things before one has a good understanding of the situation. Normally she finds his deliberation tedious, but she has to admit that it’s kept them from real danger more often than not.

Her intention is to watch, and wait, but the woman glances at her and begins edging over towards Helena, which surprises her. Most women tolerate her at best and ignore her at worst (or see her as a way to get closer to Charles). Perhaps this isn’t artifact-related after all; this is unusual, but it doesn’t feel like she’s being whammied. She’s not quite sure what it does feel like, but she’s intrigued to see how this progresses.

One of the men who had been more insistent on monopolizing the other woman’s attention mutters to his friend indignantly as it becomes clear that she is no longer listening and perhaps never was; another begins to inquire as to what she is doing, and with a politely placid smile she answers, “Oh, she and I are old friends, haven’t seen each other in positively forever. Do forgive my rudeness,” and before Helena knows what’s going on, the mystery woman has taken her by the arm and steered her toward a more private corner of the room.

“Would you be so kind as to explain yourself?” Helena asks, not altogether angry but now very curious as to the meaning of all this. If a man had done this, she would have been furious; however, in this case, she’s merely perplexed and more interested than she’s willing to admit. This kind of attention is not unheard of for her, but it’s never come from a woman before.

The stranger sighs, just slightly grimacing. “I didn’t mean to startle you,” she says. “But it seemed the best way to remove myself from all of _that_.” With a dramatic roll of her eyes toward the crowd.

Helena laughs, surprising herself, but having been many times the recipient of similar unwanted attention, she can sympathize. “Understandable.”

“I overheard your attempts to start conversations with some of them,” the woman continues. “I must say, I can’t see why anyone would refuse such interesting discussions.”

Helena can’t decide if she’s serious or not. More than once, she’s found herself the target of ridicule, not often directly. “I confess I’m not sure what you’re playing at here.”

“Really, I’m not playing at anything.” She closes her fan and shrugs innocently. “True intellectuals are rare enough in these circles, I seek them out if I can.”

This sounds promising, but Helena won’t allow herself to hope; she’s been too disappointed in similar situations in the past. “How nice for you.” She knows that’s a bit rude, but she’s very unsure of how to proceed.

And to Helena’s surprise, this causes the other woman not to frown or recoil or defend herself, but to start giggling. “All right, perhaps this wasn’t the best way to start off,” she says, then extending her hand. “My name is Eleanor.”

Mystified, Helena shakes her hand, but she’s distinctly aware that she must look very surprised. “Helena,” she says, even more confused and unsure of when to let go.

“Oh! Well, then, I’ll be Nora for the night, makes it a bit less confusing.” Very firmly, she lets go of Helena’s hand, but she hasn’t stopped smiling.

“Nora.” Helena nods. It strikes her that other women may feel as uncomfortable around her as she does now, with Nora. But then, neither she nor Nora have tried to leave the conversation yet. That’s promising.

“And I promise I’m not exaggerating about the company,” Nora adds. “Maybe it’s just that I’ve been away so long, but everyone here seems dreadfully provincial and dull.”

That catches Helena’s attention. “Where have you been, if not here?” Nora’s accent has enough similarities to her own that she can place it, more or less, so she can assume that Nora didn’t grow up too far from here.

“Surrey is home, strictly speaking,” Nora says lightly. “But I’ve not been back in years, I think I’m more at home on ships and trains now.” She pauses for a moment, then explains, “Most recently, I was in Japan, but my work takes me all sorts of places.”

Helena’s somehow more surprised by this than anything else Nora has said. “What kind of work is that?” she asks, treading carefully so as not to come across as judgmental rather than curious.

Nora shrugs. Apparently she’s not going to offer more information than that, which is a bit bizarre, but at this point Helena can accept that, given that she would have to be similarly covert.

But before either of them can figure out where to take their conversation next, a man  
approaches. “Pardon me,” he says to Nora, and his courtesy sounds all too fake. “I was wondering if you would oblige me with a dance?”

Nora wrinkles her nose. “Yes, I suppose the music did just change,” she murmurs. “Afraid to say, the answer is no.”

“But –”

“Not in the mood,” Nora chirps.

“And you?” he asks, turning his attention toward Helena.

Helena’s almost taken by surprise, as she was too busy enjoying Nora’s treatment of the man to expect him to notice her. “I’d have to agree with the lady here. So sorry.” She makes it obvious that she’s not sorry.

He’s too well-bred to let his disappointment show too much, but it’s clear when he stalks off that he’s not used to being rejected.

“I hope that wasn’t too uncomfortable,” Nora says, though it’s not quite apparent whether she means for Helena or for the man. “I just didn’t have the patience for that.”

Helena laughs. “Neither do I, generally. But I’m not accustomed to such blatant disregard for men’s feelings that’s not coming from me.”

“I think it does his sort good to get knocked down a peg every so often,” Nora replies, and that slightly mischievous smile has returned. “How would you feel about finding someplace more private to continue this conversation?”

As much as she wants to, Helena can’t help but notice that the man she saw before is still intently watching Nora, and that makes her uneasy. It occurs to her that he might be already involved with her, and not take kindly to – whatever this is. “What about – that fellow over there?” she asks, nodding towards him. “Is he – with you?”

Nora follows Helena’s nod, then lets out another laugh. “Oh, it’s nothing like that,” she demurs. “He… how shall I put this. He’s responsible for keeping an eye on me, but I don’t need to be coddled like a child.”

This is not the answer Helena was expecting. She’s not quite sure what it means, but it wouldn’t have been her first guess. “I don’t catch your meaning.”

“Well, I _am_ a lady,” Nora says sweetly, looking up at Helena from under her eyelashes.

Since no further explanation is offered (once again), Helena decides to drop it. “Well, all right,” she says somewhat hesitantly. “Where did you have in mind?”

“I suspect this building has a rooftop,” Nora smirks. “Those are usually unoccupied.”

So they go to the roof, which is not furnished for wayward party guests to use. In fact, it’s not furnished at all. It’s not the coldest of nights, but between the temperature and the wind, it’s cold enough that Helena is glad of her long sleeves and slightly concerned for Nora, given that _her_ gown is decidedly barer about the shoulders and arms.

“Aren’t you cold?” Helena asks, concerned but mostly curious.

Nora perches on a convenient ledge and instead of answering directly she says, “Let’s do stop pretending, shall we?”

Helena’s taken aback. “What exactly are we pretending?” Her first thought is for the Warehouse, and she’s suddenly worried that perhaps this really did have to do with an artifact and that hers would be the body that Chaturanga and Wolcott would find in its wake.

“I know about your brother,” Nora declares coolly. “Who he really is and who you really are.”

Well. This probably isn’t going to end with her dead body lying on this rooftop after all. Still, she’s nervous and confused for a different reason than she had been earlier. “How would you possibly have begun to figure that out? Aside from the fact that Charles is an idiot who can’t be arsed to keep up appearances.” She can’t resist the opportunity to paint her brother in the least flattering light possible. After all, she hardly ever gets to.

“We were originally following him to investigate how much he knows about us,” Nora says. “That in turn led to a – suspicion, let’s say, that he wasn’t the one we had to be concerned about.”

The vagueness is starting to exasperate Helena. “And I am? And who is this mysterious ‘we’?”

Nora can sense that frustration, and she’s starting to remember why she usually only handles the research part of this. “I can’t tell you all of the details, and I don’t know that you would want to know them,” she begins. “But plainly put, vampires.”

No. She really shouldn’t do this part of the mission. She’s allowed to share that bit of information if need be, but not much beyond it, and perhaps doing so less bluntly than that would have been advisable.

Helena blinks. “You’re serious.” It shouldn’t shock her that such things exist – she works for an organization that routinely seeks out magical objects that hold the potential to alter reality in disastrous ways, after all – but it’s going to take some getting used to.

“Yes.” Nora can’t actually remember the last time she had to have this conversation; sure, she deals with humans occasionally, but in one way or another they already know about her kind and she’s spared the awkward exposition. “On account of your story, an interest has been taken in you.”

“My… story.” Helena is still processing, and it takes her a moment to conclude that Nora must mean “The Flowering of the Strange Orchid,” which she’d published earlier that year.

“Yes,” Nora repeats. “It’s policy to, shall we say, keep tabs on writers of stories that may suggest or feature versions of us.” She folds her hands in her lap primly. “Even if they’re not particularly close or explicit, it requires some follow-up.”

“Ah.” Keeping her face as neutral as possible, Helena continues, “I assure you it was coincidence, if there’s anything at all that’s correct. I may have heard vague rumors, but I’m not even sure if I believed any of them.” She doesn’t mention _where_ ; no need for Nora to know they came from her doings with the Warehouse.

“Rumors,” Nora repeats, that smile starting to appear once more. “I see. Your story isn’t the most worrisome we’ve come across, nor is it in any particular danger of exposing us –”

“If you’re so worried about exposure then why tell me?”

Nora raises an eyebrow. “Exposure at large isn’t prudent, let’s say. But we’re not a complete secret, and I’ve a feeling you’re the sort who’d have come across it on your own eventually.”

Helena wonders why, but keeps it to herself. Nora’s been cagey enough that she doubts she’d get a straight answer.

“And besides,” Nora continues. “Even if we hadn’t had an inkling already, I imagine that observing you and your brother tonight would have tipped us off to the fact that something is amiss.”

Snorting, Helena nods. “He’s not subtle. It grates on me that he’s given credit for all of my ideas, but alas society hasn’t given me a more feasible option at this point.” Well, it has, in the form of the Warehouse, but she’s not going to mention that.

Finally the conversation has reached the point that Nora feels comfortable. She has no intention of telling the whole truth – she can’t, and what’s more she wouldn’t – but the human double standard? That’s something she understands very well. “It is unfortunate,” she agrees. “So often, the less deserving get to reap the benefits.”

“Oh, it has nothing to do with that,” says Helena quickly. “I’m not interested in what my brother sees as the benefits. But it would be nice if others knew my ideas were my own, and treated me with equal respect for them.”

Nora can hear the added unspoken there, the _instead of disdaining me for not fitting their ideas of what I ought to be_. “I understand,” she murmurs. “And you’re very deserving of that respect. And more.”

It’s not the warmest praise Helena’s ever been given, but at this point she appreciates anything of that nature. “Well, thank you,” she answers, ducking her head uncharacteristically shyly.

“I could continue if you wanted me to,” Nora offers, and it sounds just coy enough that there’s really no mistaking her intentions now.

Such an offer has never been made to Helena, but she’s not too proud to refuse. Besides, someone offering praise does sound rather appealing. “Well, I won’t argue with that.”

“Come here, then,” Nora says, gesturing to the ledge beside her. Helena does, though she’s not quite sure why she’s supposed to, and she’s not entirely sure why Nora takes her hand again, but she finds she doesn’t mind it. “I admit I haven’t looked into the details of everything you’ve written or invented, but what of it I’ve seen is impressive, and on top of that, you’re a very stunning woman.”

Well, _that’s_ not something she’s heard in a while. “Go on,” Helena says, in a way that she hopes is playful. She’s out of practice relating to others in this way, but since Nora’s clearly not, she’s willing to at least make an attempt.

“About which part?” Nora asks. “How intelligent you are? Or how beautiful?”

“Truth be told, I haven’t heard about either in long enough that I won’t be choosy about it,” replies Helena, smirking. “And while we’re on the subject, you’re rather stunning yourself.”

Nora doesn’t blush – of course she doesn’t blush – but she lets her gaze fall to her lap for a moment as she smiles. She also doesn’t acknowledge the compliment outright. “You ought to be showered with adoration for what your brilliant mind has come up with,” she says instead. “And it’s criminal that you can’t be. I find it a bit more surprising that you haven’t got more people admiring your beauty, though. That’s plain to see.”

As she’s been talking, Nora has been absent-mindedly stroking Helena’s thumb with her own. Helena is enjoying this attention far too much, and she’s preening a bit. But it’s also unusual enough that she’s not quite sure of how to respond to it. “Do you often take girls up on the roof and shower them with adoration?”

“The ones who’ve earned it,” Nora says.

Helena’s gradually been leaning closer to Nora over the last few minutes, partially due to the chilly air and partially out of anticipation. She’s never had anything like this with a woman (not for lack of trying), but she presumes that this part of it is fairly similar to how it is with a man.

Nora’s mirroring her, leaning as well. She blinks slowly – Helena suddenly realizes that hasn’t happened in a while – and the hand that’s not currently holding Helena’s reaches to cup Helena’s cheek. “And it’s not just limited to impromptu prose, either,” she whispers.

Before Helena can fully register it (though she realizes she was subconsciously expecting it) Nora’s closed the slight distance between them and begun kissing her.

It’s nice, though it’s been awhile since Helena’s had anything like this, so it takes her a moment to fall back into the rhythm of it. Nora’s lips are both softer than anyone else’s have been and colder, which in the back of her mind she realizes makes sense, considering Nora’s gender and species.

They kiss until Helena begins to feel dizzy and short of breath, and has to pull away, looking (rather charmingly) sheepish. “Not that I’m not enjoying this,” she gasps, “but I do need to come up for air once in a while.” Then she smiles apologetically.

That’s one of the things about kissing humans that Nora always seems to forget, and she’s feeling a bit silly about it too, but it’s not as if she feels compelled to say so. “Take breaks when you need them,” she says instead, smiling mischievously.

Helena giggles, which she hasn’t done in a while but given the circumstances it seems like the appropriate response. But it’s nice to have Nora acknowledge her needs, even if it seems silly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

 

* * *

 

They’ve been kissing for a while, only breaking when absolutely necessary, when Nora pulls back for a moment to ask, “Ought we to take this somewhere else? I don’t imagine this is particularly comfortable for you.”

Helena’s lost track of time, and she suddenly realizes she’s been sitting in the same position for far too long. “I have a place not far from here, if you’d like. I ought to tell my brother where I’ll be, though, or he’ll assume he’s gotten even more intoxicated than normal.” Then she remembers. “Should you tell your…the fellow you came with?”

Nora laughs. “I might tell him just to meet me back at ours, but I might not tell him anything,” she says. “He should know he doesn’t have to worry about me.”

At this point Helena knows better than to press her for details, but she enjoys Nora’s casual dismissal of the man. “Oh, I have no doubt that you’re perfectly capable of looking after yourself,” she replies, smirking, “and I suspect he has very little to worry about. If only my brother were so accommodating. Speaking of which, I’d better find the idiot before he gets himself so drunk that he forgets he has a sister. Care to join me?”

“What exactly do you mean to tell him?” Nora asks playfully.

“I think I’ll let him draw his own conclusions.” With a wink, she takes Nora’s hand and leads her back towards the party.

They find Charles, finally (after expending far too much effort to do so), draped over a couch in such a way that is probably meant to suggest leisure, but is likely a result of alcohol. When Helena nonchalantly mentions her plans, he barely glances up and grunts an unintelligible acknowledgement. Helena rolls her eyes and smiles at Nora as if to say “Look what I’m saddled with.”

As they’re heading for the door, Nora notices her bodyguard following, from a respectable distance of course. Instead of doing the responsible thing and informing him of their plans (to some degree) she turns and, with a bright smile, waves. They’re too far ahead of him for him to catch up just yet, and Nora assumes that he’ll find her eventually, but if she can help it, not anytime soon. (She’s setting herself up for another lecture about disposable bodyguards and she knows it, but she can’t bring herself to care. She’ll hang her head and murmur contrition, but she and Salome will giggle about it later, and Salome will point out she just can’t resist being a bit wicked, can she, and then they’ll put that tendency to use. All part of the usual.)

Once outside, Helena glances around. “I presume it won’t be too difficult to hail a cab, as they’re likely to be circling around in hopes of paying customers.” As if to prove this point, one appears from around the corner and Helena raises her hand to catch the driver’s attention.

“Where exactly do you live?” Nora asks, after they’ve situated themselves in the cab.

Helena raises an eyebrow. “I thought you said your spies had been tailing me.”

“Well, yes, to a degree,” Nora shrugs. “But it’s still polite to ask.”

“Fair enough. Belvedere. I acquired a house there soon after the birth of my daughter.” Helena’s not sure whether she should have mentioned Christina, but part of her assumes Nora already knows.

“And will your daughter be present?” Nora asks, sounding slightly more anxious (though mostly at the idea of children).

“No, I’ve left her with my parents this evening,” Helena reassures her. The apprehensiveness doesn’t offend her in the slightest, as she feels similarly towards children who are not her own.

Nora’s mannerly enough to hide her relief at that, but it’s certainly felt, both because of what she’s certain now will be the evening’s activities and because she’s positive she shouldn’t (and doesn’t want to) be around _any_ children. “Splendid,” she murmurs instead, letting her voice go a bit lower. “It’ll be so much nicer if it’s just the two of us all night.”

 

* * *

 

They arrive at the house, which doesn’t seem particularly grand or ostentatious. “It’s nothing so luxurious as you’re probably accustomed to,” says Helena, almost apologetically, “but it suits us well enough.”

In actuality Nora _is_ accustomed to such things – granted, she’s being put up in what most people would consider basements most of the time, but they’re about the grandest basements imaginable – but it’s not as if she’s offended by the opposite. This doesn’t even really count as such; it’s plain, but it’s not shabby. Unpretentious might be the word. “I don’t mind in the slightest,” she insists. “But you’ll need to invite me in.”

“I already have,” Helena giggles, though she’s slightly perplexed.

“No, I mean – officially,” Nora says. “It’s just the way.”

Helena indulges, and soon they’re both in the foyer, where Helena sheds her wrap. The inside matches the outside, somewhat sparsely decorated aside from stacks of books on every available surface. Gesturing to the stairs, Helena explains, “Technically Charles lives on the ground floor, but he’s rarely here. Christina and I have the upstairs to ourselves.”

“Good to know there’s little chance of him interrupting, then,” Nora quips.

Without further deliberation, Helena leads Nora upstairs. They stop at a door to the left of the stairs, and Helena hesitates before turning the knob. “Do I need to invite you in here too?” she asks, smirking.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Nora exclaims. There’s no need to explain further, so she won’t, but it seems the most obvious thing to her.

Suddenly it occurs to Helena that she is in unfamiliar territory once again. She’s comfortable flirting with Nora, but she’s unsure of how to proceed beyond that. “Aren’t you wearing too much?” she asks, knowing as she says it that it’s ridiculous.

“If I am, we both are,” Nora counters. It occurs to Helena that Nora’s probably heard all manner of variations on that theme and there’s no reason to expect her to be flustered by them. “You get mine and I’ll get yours?”

It takes Helena a moment to figure out what Nora’s talking about, but once she does she nods and replies, “That seems efficient,” and then feels even sillier. “Ought I to undress you now?”

“If you’d like,” Nora replies coyly. “It’s something of a relief that I won’t have to walk you through the steps of it.” Unlike some of her masculine lovers, who all seem befuddled by the dozens of buttons and hooks.

Helena laughs. “That is an advantage.” Then she steps forward and begins to undo the row of buttons on the front of Nora’s dress. After the first few are dealt with, she decides that taking it slow might be more suited to the occasion, and sets about doing that.

It’s easy to get waylaid, given that Nora’s intermittently pressing kisses to Helena’s mouth and throat, but Helena manages it, and then Nora slips the sleeves over her shoulders. Helena takes a moment to absorb that Nora isn’t wearing a chemise under her underbust corset – a very long moment – and then Nora steps out of the dress and kicks it aside.

“Hm, looks like it’s my turn,” Nora murmurs delightedly, moving to Helena’s back and starting to unfasten the buttons, slipping her considerably more demure but no less appealing dress down as she goes. Just in case Helena thought it was safe to relax while this was being tended to, Nora keeps her lips against Helena’s shoulders, kissing and just slightly nibbling (but keeping her fangs very much in check, she’s not exactly the most controlled - as perhaps evidenced by the way this allegedly routine outing has turned into this, though such things aren’t unheard of even amongst the chancellors - but she’s not an impulsive baby).

While this is going on, and without even realizing it, Helena’s letting out gasps and moans. She’s unaccustomed to such intimate attentions, and she’s enjoying herself so much she can’t even be embarrassed. She leans into Nora’s touches instinctively, savoring them.

To say that Nora’s used to partners who are more prone to play the showoff is probably an understatement, but she finds it rather endearing that Helena’s wardrobe is as reserved as her house, neutral-toned and simple but finer than perhaps she realizes. Helena’s a bit shyer about undressing, but she pushes the fabric of her dress over her hips and nudges it away once it hits the floor.

Now both women are left in their undergarments: Nora in corset and slip and stockings, Helena in chemise and corset, both with their boots still laced up. “I should perhaps mention that I am woefully inexperienced in these matters,” says Helena, and then specifies, “with another woman, anyhow.”

Oddly enough, this causes Nora’s eyes to light up. “That’s perfectly all right,” she assures. “How exactly are you defining ‘woefully inexperienced,’ then?”

Helena looks down bashfully. “I’ve always rather liked the idea, but there didn’t seem to be anyone volunteering. And I doubt you’ve ever had this problem, but the idea is not generally accepted in these circles.”

“I’m not so far removed from this,” Nora says, though it’s unclear whether ‘this’ means the circles, human company, or human life in general. “I can still recall the need to repress one’s desires.”

Nodding, Helena takes a moment to consider this. She’s figured out by now that there are facets of Nora’s life that she’s not willing to disclose, but she can still catch her meaning and sympathize.

“I admit that’s one of the advantages,” Nora continues. “Having to worry about that significantly less.”

“I hadn’t thought of it that way, Helena admits, “but I suppose it makes sense. It sounds rather nice.”

“It is,” Nora agrees, and she steps back, then bends at the waist to work at the laces of her boots. “And another advantage is being able to share that freedom with others, if only for the night.”

Watching Nora reminds Helena of her own footwear, and she begins to remove them as well. She’s not sure how to respond to that comment. Weighing her words carefully, she finally replies, “Not to ruin the mood, but I can’t help but wonder if your motives here are born of pity.”

There are many reasons for this, not all of which Nora can or will share, but that’s not really one of them, at least in the sense that she can tell Helena means it. “I promise that’s not the case,” she says instead. She knows it’s not wise to share the occasional thought that’s crossed her mind – she can easily class her human lovers as a collection of sorts, those more exceptional than the rest of their lot – but it’s certainly relevant in this case.

“Well, all right, then.” Knowing this, Helena’s feeling much more comfortable. She reaches down to start unhooking her corset, and once that’s achieved she tosses it aside. From there, it’s just a matter of pulling the chemise over her head, and then she’s standing there completely naked. Unsure of how to continue, she turns to watch Nora, who is in no hurry as she removes her boots and stockings.

Of course, this is all fully intentional on Nora’s part. She’s a bit of a showoff at times, and now is certainly one of those times; occasionally, she looks over at Helena and smiles pleasantly, far too straightforward given that she’s very obviously teasing as well.

And not that Helena’s not enjoying the show, but she’s also eager to get to…well, whatever comes next. “You could move a little faster, darling,” she teases as she unpins her hair.

Actually, this is at least somewhat the response Nora was hoping to evoke, and it’s downright saucily that she finishes tearing her stockings off, then quickly disposes of her corset. “You sound as if you’re getting impatient,” she observes.

All Helena can think of to respond with at this point is “Wouldn’t you?”

To which the answer is a resounding “yes,” but Helena doesn’t need to know that. Instead, Nora opts for pulling the combs from her hair, tossing them on top of her dress, placing a hand on her now-bare hip and asking, “Want me to make it up to you?”

Helena doesn’t even want to give that a verbal response, so instead she strides over and kisses Nora. This rather delights Nora, who’s quick to throw her arms around Helena’s waist and pull her closer. It’s a point of pride for her to remember to stop after a while to give Helena a chance to breathe.

During one such break, Helena glances over at her bed and asks, “Might this be better suited for the bed?”

It’s been a while since Nora was with anyone who was prone to asking questions like that, but such is the nature of their current situation that she appreciates the inquiry. “It might simplify things,” she points out, smirking. One of her hands finds Helena’s, but she doesn’t move until prompted.

Helena leads Nora over to the bed, where they sit down, at least for a few minutes’ worth of kissing, before Nora decides to move things along as requested earlier.

Gently, she nudges Helena back against the covers, taking a moment to admire her all sprawled out and eager before arranging herself over top of her, straddling her leg. “You’re very beautiful,” Nora reminds, cupping Helena’s cheek.

At this point, Helena finds it easier to thank Nora with another kiss rather than attempting to come up with a compliment in return, so she does, and Nora doesn’t seem to mind it. In fact, Nora escalates the kiss, rolling her hips against Helena’s body and pressing a knee between Helena’s legs.

This is something else that Helena’s not used to. Her previous partners haven’t been particularly interested in tending to her pleasure. It’s nice enough that she’s starting to get a bit lightheaded again, and in her haze, it occurs to her to ask, somewhat merrily, “You’re sure you haven’t any other place to be tonight?”

Nora isn’t entirely wound up yet, but she’s close enough there that she can’t help but mention, “I was planning on getting something to eat before dawn.”

It takes Helena a moment to catch the real meaning of that statement. “Oh,” she says faintly. “Well.” She hadn’t had a chance before now to really think about the implications of what Nora is, and she knows she should find this more disturbing than she does. But among the many rumors she’s heard, the one that keeps resurfacing in her mind involves the potent effects one can experience from a vampire’s attentions.

“Yes,” Nora agrees, perfectly content not to discuss this with Helena. Many vampires are prone to combining their culinary and carnal pleasures, but it isn’t much Nora’s style, at least to the extent that those (usually) with less social responsibility than her do. “I wasn’t intending to mention it.”

Helena’s curiosity drives her to reply, “Well since you have, I may as well make the offer…I must admit some of those rumors I’ve heard speak very highly of the experience in this context. As a woman of science, I feel I should at least inquire about it.”

Well, nothing of the sort was in the story that brought Nora here in the first place, so Nora doesn’t feel like she needs to worry more than the usual about Helena sharing secrets. (If worst comes to, she can just glamour the knowledge out of her, but it’s not as if it’s a bad thing for humans to know that feeding can be mutually beneficial – more so for the vampires of course, but not entirely without positives for the humans, should they serve as donors and not outright victims. If this wasn’t supposed to be known, it wouldn’t be, the Authority would see to it.)

“Far be it from me to deny science,” Nora murmurs with a smile. “Are there rumors about when in the course of events it’s best to be bitten, too?”

“Not that I’ve heard,” Helena replies. “However, I…well, with regards to the evening I was wondering…there’s something in particular that I’ve known men to be rather inept at but that I hear can be better with another woman…”

Nora suspects it’s not wise to mention how cute this hesitation seems to her, because she understands the reasons for it; she also understands exactly what Helena’s speaking of and quite frankly, she’s elated. “I _suppose_ ,” she teases, pressing her lips to Helena’s jaw.

Helena sighs happily. “How would you suggest I…”

“Shush,” Nora whispers, kissing a line down Helena’s torso as she inches down to guide Helena’s legs apart. “Relax and allow me.”

With that, she lowers herself onto her stomach and gets comfortable, then draws her tongue over Helena’s sex. She isn’t particularly surprised by the way it makes Helena shout (both because Helena has already proven herself rather noisy and because, though she’d never brag about it, she’s been known to get that reaction) but it’s as gratifying as always.

The longer Nora works at it, the louder Helena gets, wailing as Nora finds each new way to please her. Nora seems to discover places that Helena was only dimly aware of from the all-too-cagey language of scientific manuals, and it’s causing her to react in ways she’s never done before.

Judging by the sounds that Helena makes when Nora laps at her bud, that’s going to be the most effective way to bring her, so when Helena’s panting and squirming more wildly than she has this whole time, Nora shifts her attentions back there, concentrating her efforts until she feels Helena come apart under her. Helena throws her head back against her pillows and grabs at her sheets desperately as she shrieks.

Nora rather gets off on getting others off, so she enjoys watching the other woman in the throes of her orgasm, but she’s not so selfless as to forgo the earlier proposition. While Helena’s still shaking, Nora lets her fangs drop and quick as anything bites into Helena’s thigh; Helena’s expecting it in the back of her mind, but she somehow isn’t expecting the sensation that comes from blood being pulled from her veins so close to her center.

She’s not sure how long it lasts, given the floating sort of sensation that overtakes her, but once she’s come back down she finds she’s all but collapsed against her mattress. Nora’s sitting up now, delicately wiping at her mouth and sucking the excess blood off of her fingers, and she grins. It’s at least somewhat feral, Helena thinks, and oddly beautiful.

“Are you all right?” Nora asks casually.

It takes Helena a moment to catch her breath, but she finally responds with, “I’m feeling just aces, thank you very much. And yourself?”

“I’ve had quite a treat tonight,” Nora declares.

“Dinner and a show?” Helena smirks. It’s an awful joke, but she can’t help herself.

Nora actually laughs out loud at that – it’s awful, true, but it’s the kind of awful that Nora doesn’t often get to hear in the afterward, so it strikes her as almost sweet. “After a fashion,” she says.

Helena hesitates for a moment before asking, “Do you often...do both with the same person?”

Nora frowns slightly. “In general, it’s common, yes,” she answers. It is common for lots of vampires, after all: when humans are kept (a rather crude way of putting it, but an accurate one) for one purpose the other ends up being true too, more than not. And if it’s a one-night stand of sorts, a fuck-drink-drain arrangement isn’t out of the question, either. (Roman has tried to move the chancellors away from this, and for the most part he’s succeeded, at least that he knows of, but it’s not exactly like it’s been forbidden.) “It’s a different… kind of satisfaction than the alternatives can give.” And she’s not discussing those alternatives with a human, no.

“I see. I’m choosing not to take offense at your use of ‘common’,” says Helena, grinning so Nora knows she’s just being playful.

“Believe me,” Nora replies. “The act may be common enough, but those I choose to do it with are anything but.” Both a compliment and a fact, though she’s not going to get into it further.

Helena’s enjoying the flattery, but she suddenly realizes that there are two people in this bed and, thus far, only one of them has been receiving attention. “And speaking of satisfaction,” she basically purrs, “you’ve been very kind to me, and it seems only proper that I...return the favor.”

“Well,” Nora laughs. “I can’t say I’m opposed to the idea.”

“Though you might have to...guide me through it a bit. I’m afraid I’ve not had any experience.”

“I understand,” Nora murmurs. She crawls forward so she’s at the head of the bed, then nudges Helena toward the other end. “I imagine you’d prefer to be on your bed rather than kneeling on the floor?”

“I wasn’t even aware the latter was an option,” replies Helena, a bit nervously.

“If I was to sit, say on the edge of the bed or in a chair, then it would be,” Nora explains. “But this will do just as well.”

Helena makes a soft little _huh_ noise. “All right.” She moves so that she and Nora have now traded places, and, after nudging Nora’s legs apart, situates herself between them. She’s never seen another woman’s sex outside of medical diagrams, and those certainly don’t compare to reality. For a moment she just stares, blatantly.

Which Nora notices, not without amusement. It’s not the first time she’s lain with a woman who’s new to, well, laying with women, and while she’d like to think her own first time all those decades ago didn’t find her gaping quite so obviously, she understands it. “The great benefit of being a woman doing this to another woman,” Nora begins, “is that you know what feels good to _you_ and presumably you can imitate it.”

“All right.” Helena’s not quite sure how to proceed, but if there’s anything she isn’t, it’s a coward, so she just leans forward and begins to lick at Nora’s center a bit hesitantly.

“Good,” Nora croons. “Good, and now just…” She pauses, thinking of the best way to say it. “Feel free to take your time exploring.”

So Helena does. She takes a few minutes experimenting with various motions and pressures, judging by Nora’s encouraging whimpers what she’s enjoying best. Nora seems to prefer lighter touches here, with firmer ones occasionally mixed in.

“If you’re not sure,” Nora murmurs, “you can vary your speed. Slow strokes, then quicker ones. Just like you’d do to yourself with your fingers, when you’re…” Belatedly, she realizes that Helena might not _do_ that (a lot of women don’t, Nora has learned, and more’s the pity) but it’s still the best example she can think of.

Helena understands what Nora was talking about, and though she’s only experimented in touching herself a few times, she figures the advice is good regardless. So she resumes with a series of slow, almost worshipful licks at the outside of Nora’s sex, before moving her tongue in a circular motion more quickly.

“Inside,” Nora says, her voice sounding slightly more strained than it did a moment ago. “Your tongue, inside me.” It’s not an order, but it’s damn close.

Helena, who’s glad of it as she’s been making it all up as she goes, does as Nora says. She keeps moving it around and, if Nora’s noises are any indication, she’s not doing too badly.

Seemingly idly, Nora threads her fingers through Helena’s hair, not forcing anything but encouraging her to keep at it just like that. She doesn’t offer any further instruction just yet, but she keeps making these remarkably uncomposed keening sounds, like Helena’s _really_ onto something.

Nora’s touch gets the message across to Helena, who suddenly remembers what Nora mentioned about speed a moment ago and starts up a rhythm of slowing down, then speeding up again. That seems like it’s working very well, as Nora’s cries have started to increase in volume and also she’s begun to rock her hips against Helena’s mouth.

“Yes, good,” Nora repeats. “Good, Helena, like that.”

Feeling a bit relieved that it’s going so well, Helena dips her tongue in and out, continuing the rhythm from earlier. She can sense that Nora’s getting closer to the edge and she’s not quite sure how to proceed from here, and then she remembers that marvelous female pleasure point and moves her attention there. The first touch is light, but after a few exploratory seconds she begins to go faster and harder, massaging the bud almost roughly.

In Nora’s opinion, that’s the best possible thing that Helena could have done, and she’s not shy about expressing her gratitude. She’s almost giggling, but delightedly; she’s definitely moaning, louder and louder. “ _Oh_ , oh yes,” she exclaims again and again, tightening her grip on Helena’s hair, dragging the nails of her other hand down the skin of her own thigh as she gets closer and closer and finally lets go with one final shout of Helena’s name.

Helena continues her ministrations as Nora’s body shakes and she keeps moaning, not quite sure of when to stop. Once Nora begins to quiet, she assumes she’s done and moves up slightly, though she’s impeded by Nora’s grip in her hair. She doesn’t mind that too much, though. It’s quite thrilling, actually.

“ _Very_ nice,” Nora mumbles, a slightly dazed smile playing over her lips. “You’re a fast learner.”

“I like to think so,” Helena replies, smirking. “I’m glad it was satisfactory.”

“It was more than,” Nora assures. “If you manage to find more women to practice on, which for your sake I hope you manage to do, they’ll be quite lucky.” She’s never been exactly sentimental about sex, after all, and she’s never felt shame in discussing hypothetical other lovers with those she takes to bed.

That statement actually makes Helena flush a bit. “I couldn’t have had a better teacher.”

Nora beams, all but ruffling Helena’s hair. It would be a lie to say that she didn’t like doing this at least in part because she likes spreading her knowledge to new people, and not the kind of lie she usually bothers to tell. “Thank you, dear,” she says. “I’m happy to have helped.”

“You certainly did,” says Helena, and then isn’t sure of what to say next. “Ah...I admit I’m unsure how to proceed from here. The men I’ve had such intimate encounters with generally fell asleep at this point in the evening.”

“Of course they did,” Nora mutters, unable to stop herself from smirking. “I’m afraid to say that this habit is shared by at least some vampire men, too. It doesn’t work so well unless you happen to be sleeping with them in the early hours, but there’s certainly a similar aversion to anything emotional afterward.” Not that she much minds it, generally, she’s not one for getting into spontaneous bouts of feelings with just anyone, but it is sort of funny to her.

“Bastards. I don’t see the use of them, really.” Helena snorts.

“Oh, not all of them are awful,” Nora exclaims, giggling. Her brother and father, for one, and she’s known others here and there. “But there is a... tendency toward it, let’s say.”

“Fair point,” sighs Helena. “But I must say, I vastly prefer the company of an intelligent woman. I don’t feel that you’re judging me for my sex, or other circumstances beyond my control, every five minutes.”

Nora shakes her head. “Even when I was human, that sort of thinking struck me as lazy,” she declares. “The notion that being a woman makes you somehow less capable of greatness is an idiotic one.”

“Well, I’ve always thought so,” agrees Helena. “If only everyone saw it as you do.”

Nora is tempted to mention her work and her society (well, vampires are flawed and she can admit it, but an inability to acknowledge the capabilities and power of women, at least to the same degree as that of men, is not one of those flaws) but she knows she shouldn’t. Instead, she settles for, “I’m sure there are more out there who do than you may think.”

“I can only hope.” Helena sighs. “Perhaps one day someone will take my inventions seriously. It’s been torturous having no one to discuss them with. I don’t suppose…?” She’s not quite sure how to finish the sentence.

“That I’d be willing to listen?” Nora assumes with a smile. “I would be, in fact.”

Helena perks up. The entire evening has been like an impossible, wonderful dream, but this might be the most wonderful part of it all. “Really?”

“Really,” Nora promises. “I can’t promise I’ll understand every bit of it, but I’ve always enjoyed that sort of thing.”

“Well, most recently I was experimenting with a grappling hook gun that would be used to pull oneself out of danger, or to retrieve objects at a distance.” Helena would’ve preferred to bring up the Tesla, since that’s a much more fascinating concept - the precision needed to create a device that causes mild memory loss without leaving the victim any worse for wear (at least on the lower settings) is astounding, and she’s still amazed she and Nikola managed it - but she knows she can’t risk exposing the Warehouse.

As Nora listens to this and considers it, she gently pulls Helena up and to the side of her, then drapes an arm over Helena’s waist. “It sounds extremely practical,” she finally settles on observing. “I’d be interested to see something like that in action.”

Helena settles in against Nora and replies, “Yes, I think it’ll come in handy. I’d offer to show you but it’s still in the prototype stage at the moment.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t ask you to get it just now anyway,” Nora murmurs. “That would mean you’d have to get up, and I’m very much enjoying you right where you are.”

Chuckling, Helena says, “As am I. Just as well, my workshop’s also less than tidy.”

“I’ll settle for listening to you talk more about it and any other invention you’d wish to share,” Nora declares.

Smiling, Helena launches into a detailed summary of her most recent experiments with cavorite, assuming that as she’s already mentioned it in her writing, the Regents wouldn’t consider this a breach of confidentiality. As she talks, a part of her brain continues to make observations, such as that she’s much more comfortable in Nora’s arms than she’s ever been in any man’s, and also that Nora’s much softer. At some point Nora begins to stroke her hair, and she savors the feeling. She’s never been fond of cats, but she can understand why they enjoy humans petting them.

For her part, Nora is a bit surprised how much she enjoys holding Helena like this. She would never admit to being a cuddler, and she’s not exactly prone to doing this with human lovers (it rarely suits the dynamic she has with them) but right now, it’s appropriate. It’s all a part of the experience. And if they’re going to be talking and listening, well, she might as well have something to do with her hands.

After a while, Helena starts to feel like she’s monopolizing the conversation. “I don’t suppose we could revisit the evening’s earlier revelation? About you being a…?”

“A vampire,” Nora supplies, raising an eyebrow coolly.

“A vampire.” Helena’s not used to saying the word aloud, but she’s determined to be casual about it. “I suppose I’m just, ah, interested in how that works. If you can say anything.”

There’s not much that Nora can say, really. Secrecy and all that. She figures that Helena will understand this, but it still accounts for her slightly false apologetic tone when she says, “I can’t get into many of the details, but I’d be willing to entertain questions with the understanding that most can’t be answered.” It’s the best she can do (or wants to do).

“Oh, I understand perfectly,” replies Helena, and she does, with the Warehouse and all. She pauses for a moment, thinking of how best to phrase what might be the most likely of her questions to be answered. “The drinking, does it, ah...does it always go like this? I mean, I have heard rumors of...well, less pleasant endings to encounters with vampires, is that more or less common than the human party surviving afterwards?”

It’s not a question with a nice answer, and despite that or perhaps because of it, Nora continues running her hand over Helena’s hair as she contemplates the best way to say it. “You mean, do vampires kill,” she finally says. “Yes, sometimes they do.” It’s more common, but she doesn’t feel right saying it, so she dances around that particular fact. “It depends on the moment, I suppose. Not all hungers are the same.”

Helena shivers involuntarily. Not that she didn’t know the world contained many kinds of darkness - her time at the Warehouse has introduced her to much more than the average person is likely to encounter - but it’s always a strange thing to have a long-held assumption about how the world works ripped away. She feels very fortunate that the evening hasn’t gone in a different direction.

She has more questions, many of which Nora can’t answer, and Helena contents herself with the small hints she’s been given.

The whole truth, of course, is that Nora’s not shy about killing or any of the other more vicious aspects of her nature. She wasn’t squeamish about them when she was first made vampire and she’s not squeamish now; were it not a matter of upholding important secrets, she’d likely be more forthcoming. As it is, she shares only the bare minimum, because she neither wants to terrify Helena nor to have to glamour things out of her. She doesn’t outright lie about any of it, and she keeps her withholding tactful as she can. That’s more effective, she knows.

Soon enough, Helena senses that Nora’s told her all she can and the topic shifts back to Helena’s inventions, and then to other things, until Helena’s head becomes cloudy with exhaustion and she suddenly realizes it must be very early in the morning. More than anything, she wants to keep talking with this fascinating woman, but her eyelids keep drooping shut. “I’m sorry,” she murmurs finally, slurring her words more than she means to, “I’m afraid that I’m in desperate need of sleep, much as I’m enjoying your company.”

It’s not so close to sunrise that there’s any danger, but it’s approaching. Nora’s old enough that she doesn’t show its pull obviously, and if need be she could fight it awhile, but she’s starting to feel it, and she can see that Helena’s not exaggerating her own tiredness either. “It’s all right,” she says softly, brushing a hand over Helena’s cheek. “I’ll make my exit gracefully, there’s no need to worry about that, and I suppose I ought to be getting back to mine. My chaperone must be having a fit by now, not that…”

She’s intending to continue making jokes about him, not because he’s particularly deserving of it (as far as her bodyguards have gone, he’s not one of the worst of them) but because it’s harmless and amusing, but when she glances down again, she sees that Helena’s drifted off, mouth just slightly parted, eyes closed. She looks peaceful, cliche as it sounds, and Nora can’t help but smile.

Careful not to disturb the other woman, Nora disentangles herself, then eases off of the bed slowly. It takes a bit of maneuvering, but soon she’s got Helena resting against her pillows, tucked underneath her covers; she’s silent as she dresses, but once she’s got everything back on, or at least close enough to be presentable as she makes her way back to the property she’s been given use of for this trip, she moves back to the bed and leans to press a light kiss to Helena’s forehead. She could swear she sees Helena smile at it, which seems hopelessly sentimental but in a way that’s really rather pleasant.

Nora’s thinking she’ll just duck out and leave it at that; she’s already well aware that she’s being the slightest bit reckless tonight and will likely get some sort of talking-to from Roman if most of this comes to light, not that she hasn’t withstood those before and not that she much cares. As she’s starting to do, though, she notices paper and pen on Helena’s desk and she can’t help herself but to pick it up. No “reach me at this address,” no further explanation. It occurs to her she didn’t even bother to lie about her last name, there’s nothing of that sort. But Helena is, like most of the humans that Nora finds herself drawn to even for just one night, special.

What she writes is this:

_Helena -_  
 _Thank you for a lovelier time than I could have imagined. I want you to know that you’re infinitely more fascinating than those others at that party and very probably in your society as a whole. I hope that in time, you will find another woman who will be your intellectual equal and appreciate you as you deserve._  
 _N._

And with that, Nora sets down the pen, casts one final fond look toward Helena, and takes her leave.


End file.
